


A (Not So) Secret Crush

by hookedontaronfics



Category: British Actor RPF, Taron Egerton - Fandom
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 08:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21194768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hookedontaronfics/pseuds/hookedontaronfics
Summary: I just had so much fun writing this imagine; it really flowed from my fingertips with ease and I hope you enjoy reading this super sweet fluff as much as I enjoyed writing it! xPrompt: Could you possibly do an imagine where the reader is drunk and leaves a voicemail for taron saying that she’s falling for him? then he confronts her? SUUUUPER FLUFFY





	A (Not So) Secret Crush

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: None (Just some cursing but we’re all adults here, right?)

Here was the scene: Another Friday night at a loud bar, drinking with your friends, some who had been your mates since your RADA days, others who had been brought into the fold because they knew someone who knew someone. Either way, your group had been hosting these Friday night get-togethers for as long as you could remember, and whoever could make it showed up. The mix of friends changed time to time but the fun never stopped. 

You truly loved these people and you were grateful you had made friends for life. You’d been through every heartbreak and every victory together - new jobs, losing parents, getting engaged, getting married, getting cancer, having babies, getting promotions, losing jobs, shitty breakups, you’d seen it all together, and you’d been there for each other through thick and thin, plenty of tears and plenty of laughter.

One of your closest friends had drifted away from the group slightly, not because he didn’t care but because he was just so exceptionally busy. Taron had made quite a name for himself lately, and was constantly running the awards circuit as of late. You couldn’t help but admit you slightly envied him. Out of your entire RADA group, he’d been the most successful. Some of you still did civic theater or indie film projects, but nearly everyone had gone on to normal plebian jobs. But Taron had been incredibly talented from Day One; how he hadn’t made it into the school on his first audition was beyond you. You knew he’d go far and you were pleased to see your predictions had been right. Of course he’d always brushed you off when you’d tried to tell him that all those years ago; he was almost annoyingly humble.

Look at him now, you thought, racking up awards buzz for his latest project as Elton John, sitting there downing his pilsner and laughing like he hadn’t a care in the world. He’d decided to join your lot finally after months of half-promises or apologies, and you couldn’t help staring at his fine-cut suit… or that jawline. He’d just come from some banquet or another, you’d lost track at that point, but boy did he look fine.

You weren’t sure when the crush had started really. Maybe you’d always found him attractive, but he had been your friend so you never really dwelled on it. Plus, as gangly young adults, you all had had some growing up to do. But Taron had aged like a fine wine, and only gotten more handsome as the years passed, and so your crush had slowly become more than just a spark. But you’d never tell him that, you couldn’t. You felt like it would ruin your friendship, a friendship you both had come to rely on over the years. He’d called you in tears when he and Emily had broken up, and you’d brought over frozen pizzas and let him cry on your shoulder while they baked in the oven. That kind of friendship wasn’t worth ruining over your silly crush.

But at this moment, as the alcohol you were drinking was working its way through your system, you couldn’t help but wonder what could come of it all if you just told him the truth. You were both single at the moment now, and every time he smiled at you you felt your heart leap into your throat. It was getting kind of annoying, to be honest. Taron with those intense green eyes and that boyish grin and that hair you wanted to run your fingers through. But you never would, because you loved him too much to trip over the line and cause an irreparable rip in the fabric of your friendship.

The night wore on, and so did the drinks, shots and cocktails and a beer to chase it all down. As you were nursing your Firestone ale, Taron finally slid over on the booth next to you. The conversations had died down mostly into private talks between couples, and you’d been sitting by yourself, aware of how that branded you in your singleness.

“You shouldn’t be sitting by yourself, love,” he grinned at you, tossing an arm casually on the back of the booth behind you, but not touching you. Still, you were all too aware of his presence now. He smelled of alcohol but also vanilla and sandalwood; it was a bit heady to you, and you had to take a steadying breath before you answered him.

“Everyone decided to couple up,” you laughed, the sound too loud and bright to your own ears. “And I am definitely… uh.. Single,” you added for good measure.

“Suppose that makes two of us, eh?” he smiled gently at you. You could only nod at that.

“So, I feel completely rude in not asking what you’ve been up to these days,” he said, taking a sip of his own beer, your eyes trained on the way his mouth worked the rim of the glass and giving you a thought you instantly banished from your mind. You suddenly felt quite warm and adjusted the collar of your blouse.

“Just work, you know, the usual boring adult shit. My life is not nearly as exciting as yours, Mister I’m Winning All The Awards,” you said, giggling slightly at your own dumb joke.

“Oh please, that’s not even remotely true,” he chuckled, but you could see a bit of blush creeping up his neck. You had to admit, it didn’t look bad on him at all.

“But really, I just go to work and come home and veg in front of the telly and do hot yoga and drink with this lot and that’s about it. I guess I’m waiting for something more exciting to come along,” you shrugged slightly.

“Or someone?” he asked, turning his full gaze on you. You couldn’t decipher the meaning behind his words, though, so you just took another drink of your ale.

“I guess you could say that but who knows if that will ever happen, T. You’ve seen me go through it so many times before. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s such a thing as true love, or if life is just really about settling for someone you at least can tolerate,” you sighed heavily.

“Hey now, no reason to give up just yet,” he said, tilting your chin up to look at him. You’d hugged him many times over the years, even tackled him full-on during a friendly rugby match, but for some reason his touch on you now sent shivers down your spine.

“I’ll believe you when you find me a match,” you teased him lightly, and he chuckled.

“Alright, well, let’s start with this here bar, right now,” he smirked sideways at you as you slid down in the booth to try and hide. “Ohhh that one over there, in the chummy corduroy jacket, he’s got nice eyes. Or the biker jacket by the window, he could take you for a wild ride,” Taron snickered and you slapped him playfully on the arm.

“Taron, stop,” you said, hissing in your attempt to not laugh.

“Hey, what about Mr. Silver Suits over there, 9 o’clock?” he said, sweeping his arm over to point and accidentally knocking you in the back of the head in the process. “Oh my god, I’m so so sorry!” he said, pulling you to him and holding you tightly against his chest. You couldn’t breathe in this close proximity to him, and he must have interpreted your silence as pain. “Please tell me you’re okay,” he pleaded slightly, his alcohol breath on your cheek not unpleasant.

“I’m fine Taron, but you’re squeezing me a bit,” you laughed, as he quickly loosened his arms around you and you sat back up.

“I’ve totally gone and messed up your hair,” he said, trying to help you rearrange it, his fingers whispering slightly over your cheeks and shoulders and making you suck in your breath slightly. You were far too drunk to think about this rationally. He was drunk too, though, you realized, and couldn’t possibly be meaning anything about this.

“It’s fine, T, you’ve done enough,” you said with a smile, as he withdrew his hands and looked slightly embarrassed at himself.

“Sorry, I’m a bit drunk?” he offered, and you just laughed at him.

“Not the first time I’ve seen you pissed,” you giggled, and he grinned at you.

“This is not untrue,” he smirked. “But we should maybe call it a night?” he said, loosening his tie slightly and drawing your eyes straight to his neck, where you wanted to kiss him.  _ Fuck _ , you really needed to stop thinking those things. You were going to go home to your quiet, lonely apartment, by yourself, and probably crash and sleep off your hangover. Taron was no part of that reality and the thought sobered you up a bit.

You both ordered Ubers and finished your drinks while you waited, chatting about nothing of consequence. He walked you out the door, his hand at your lower back, and made sure you got in the Uber safely.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” he said, slurring his words only slightly.

“Of course,” you said sweetly at him as he closed the door behind you. The Uber driver was rather chatty but thankfully didn’t seem to mind that most of your replies were “uh-huh” and “yeah” and you were grateful when you got home, a small headache beginning to work its way into your brain, and also a slightly painful longing in your heart.

You had once again walked away from Taron without telling him how you felt, and tonight he’d even slightly made you feel like maybe he felt something too, the way his gaze had landed on you often when he didn’t think you were looking, the way his fingers had always found your knee under the table, the way he leaned into your shoulder when he laughed. Boy, you had it bad, and you didn’t know how to stop. Maybe you didn’t want to stop feeling this way about him, but you could never have him either.

You hopped in the shower, hoping that would calm you down, before realizing you’d completely forgotten to text Taron that you’d made it home safely. You quickly grabbed your towel and wrapped it around your dripping body, hair still full of shampoo, before pawing through the contents of your purse for your phone, where you found several <are you home yet?!> texts from Taron.

Rather than text him back this late, you just decided to call since that might be quicker in reassuring him that you were safe. He didn’t pick up the call though, and you half-imagined him crashed out on his couch, still in that suit coat, now rumpled, mouth hanging slightly open and the couch blanket tossed haphazardly over himself. The image made you smile as his voicemail beeped at you.

“Hey, Taron, it’s me. You would have known that if you’d been looking at your phone, of course. But you’re probably asleep already so… I’m just letting you know I-” you said before the phone service cut you off. You sighed and dialed again, waiting for the beep before trying again. “I made it home! Thought you should know that. Because you left me like 18 texts asking me if I was home yet. I had fun tonight with you, really. It was great to catch up. I hope we-” you rambled into the voice message before getting cut off again.

You hoped what? That you could fall in love and get married and have his babies? The thought was absolutely absurd, and you laughed out loud at how ridiculous you were being. You dialed his number one more time, hoping to leave something semi-coherent. “Hey, sorry I’m really drunk but if I don’t tell you how I feel now I never will. I think I’m falling for you and I know if this ruins our friendship I’ll forever regret it. But I just needed to tell you that, because I’ve known it for a long time. I think I love you, and I-” You were cut off again, and suddenly lost your courage too. You threw your phone on the bedside table and wished you could take that message back.

“SHIT!” you yelled out loud, standing in the puddle of water you’d left on your hardwood floor. What have I done, you thought, feeling like you might cry. Well, it was all in Taron’s hands now, really. You felt sick to your stomach as you went to finish your shower, and afterward stood staring at yourself in the mirror for a long moment. There was no way he could possibly feel the same about you. He probably only thought of you as a sister, nothing more. You brushed the tears away from your face and sighed before collapsing in your bed, not even bothering to dry your hair, the water soaking into your pillow as you passed out.

When your alarm went off the next morning you batted half the crap off your bedside table before finding your phone and silencing the alarm, groaning slightly at it before sitting bolt upright and opening your phone. There were no return texts, no return voicemails. Nothing at all. Maybe he was still asleep, you told yourself, though it was already nearly 11 a.m. Maybe he just didn’t know how to respond, because you sure as hell wouldn’t if he had left you messages like that. Maybe he’d just chalk it up to drunkenness and let the whole thing pass like a bad dream. Or a kidney stone. Painful, but forgettable. Because that’s exactly how you felt about yourself in that moment.

There was no way you were getting back to sleep, so you got up and went about your Saturday, tidying up your apartment, going to the grocery, chatting with your mum, watching some telly, and jumping every time your phone chimed with a text. But they were never texts from the one person you needed to hear from, and when the sun began to sink toward the horizon with still no response, your heart sank to your toes right along with it.

You slept fitfully that night, before spending Sunday as a nervous wreck, pacing your apartment and debating whether to ring him. You settled on a text message, typing it and deleting it and retyping it again. <I think we need to talk. But I just want to know you’re okay. Please text me back.> You paced some more before you finally received a text back.

<Everything’s alright, just been busy. We can talk at some point but I’ll be in the States for a while coming up so don’t hold your breath.>

“Don’t hold my breath?” you asked out loud, a wee bit shocked as it sounded rather rude, coming from someone you’d known the better part of 10 years. Someone who had cried on your damn shoulders just a few months ago. You huffed slightly and tossed your phone on the couch, staring at it and sighing. You figured the conversation would probably end up with you conceding just being drunk and an arsehole and both of you agreeing to forget it ever happened. 

But could you live with your unrequited feelings for the rest of your life? Could you stand by Taron’s side when he married another girl, knowing how you felt about him? Or would this truly be something neither of you could get over? Could you live with never talking to him again? The thought made you feel sick to your stomach; you’d rather deny your feelings for the rest of your life than lose him completely, you decided. You spent the rest of the night on the couch with a tub of ice cream, eating your feelings and trying to not so subtly ask your friend group if they’d heard anything from Taron, but no one had. At least he had kept your secret admission to himself.

Weeks passed and you didn’t hear anything from Taron. You attended the next several Friday outings with the group and even though you enjoyed your time with everyone else, the lack of Taron’s presence was a glaring hole in your mind. Don’t hold your breath, he’d said, the phrase stuck on an endless loop in your mind. It distracted you in your daily life, and even your best friend at work called you out for it. You came up with some lame excuse she saw right through, figuring it was “boy trouble” and wondering when you’d ever manage to find a decent man. 

The problem, though, was that a decent man had been right in front of you, so close to you but so far out of reach. Maybe Taron had ruined you for everyone else, you thought to yourself, laughing at that but half-wondering if it was true. No one ever measured up to the man you knew he was, the man you’d spent countless hours beating at Mario Kart, he was so laughably bad, the man who’d helped you memorize your monologues, who sent you funny gifs when he knew you were down, who always took you to lunch after a bad breakup. He knew more about your life than most anyone else.

And you’d gone and thrown it all away.

On a particularly stormy day, six weeks later, you were sitting on your living room floor, surrounded by half cut-up magazines, the scattered images of people’s faces and flowers and animals and the words you’d cut out. You were dressed in a pair of floral leggings and a white sweater, your hair up in a messy bun with a cute headband holding your bangs out of your face. You were tapping your scissors against your lips, deciding how to arrange your collage, when a loud crack of thunder made you jump, your lights flickering slightly. “Jesus,” you breathed out, your heart racing slightly before a knock sounded on your apartment door.

You almost thought you’d imagined it, not expecting anyone, when it sounded again. You quickly put the cap on the open glue bottle before unwinding your legs and standing up, stepping carefully around the scattered art. The insistent knocking came again, and you sighed. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you said even though they couldn’t hear you. It was probably just a neighbor wondering if your lights had flickered too.

You popped the door open and gasped slightly, an entirely-soaked-to-the-bone Taron standing at your door, rainwater dripping off the tip of his nose and chin, his wet hair plastered to his forehead.

“Taron!” you said in surprise, your hand still on the doorknob.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly, knowing full well what he meant.

“Your voicemail that you left me. When you said you were falling for me,” he said, still dripping onto the floor outside of your apartment.

“I- … was drunk,” you started but he shook his head.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked again, his gaze looking vulnerable and a bit tortured too.

It really was now or never, you thought to yourself. “Yes. Yes I did,” you replied, a bit faintly.

“How long have you known?” he asked, his own voice failing him slightly, cracking a bit.

“Years, Taron. But don’t stand out there, you’ll catch your death,” you said, gesturing for him to come inside. He stepped across the threshold gingerly, awkwardly, as if he hadn’t been in your apartment before. You quickly went to get him some towels and took his sopping wet coat and did your best to wring it out in the bathtub before hanging it up to dry. You couldn’t help but hide a laugh behind your hand at his appearance; he looked like a drowned rat, but it was somehow adorable.

You sat a stack of towels on the couch so he could sit and not worry about getting it all wet but you could tell he wasn’t comfortable in the least. “Why did you never say anything to me?” he asked after a moment, as you paused in the middle of your attempt to sweep up your collage work into a tidy pile.

“I knew it would ruin our friendship. I knew it would make things awful and awkward between us, and it has,” you admitted, peering over at him. He seemed lost in thought, wrestling with something, his face an open book.

“I’ve only been awkward and distant because I … I’ve had trouble coming to terms with how I felt about you. I don’t think I’ve had nearly the same courage, drunk or not. But I’ve done some thinking, and I started to realize that, y/n, it’s really always been you. You were always there, for my smallest victories to my biggest heartbreaks. You were the one tipping back a beer with me every time I landed a role. You were the one encouraging me when I felt like I wasn’t good enough. You went shopping for my first real suit for my first real awards show back in the day,” he grinned, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory with him.

“You were so nervous, it was darling,” you giggled.

“The hem! The hem!” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“All the pants were too long on you,” you giggled lightly as he gazed at you, biting his lip slightly.

“I don’t think we have to lose this at all,” he said softly. “I think we can make it even better. I at least want to try, because I fell for a girl a long time ago who’s been right in front of me all along. And I know that sounds super cliche, like one of those cheesy romcoms you love so much, but it’s true,” he said sweetly.

“They are brilliant pieces of cinema and you will never change my mind, Taron David Egerton!” you laughed, but your heart was also falling open at that moment as you heard the words you’d been wishing to hear for so long. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if this was just a dream; that’d you’d wake up tomorrow and all of this would have evaporated like mist on the wind. Before either of you could say another word, your lights went out accompanied by another loud clap of thunder, and you groaned loudly.

“Well shit,” you said, going to check the breaker box but the lights were truly out. You rummaged around under your sink and found a flashlight, flicking it on and setting it on its end so the beam of light hit the ceiling and scattered around the room, drawing weird shadows on the walls. You noticed, suddenly, that Taron was shivering quite a bit, but you weren’t sure how to solve that until you remembered you had borrowed one of his sweatshirts eons ago.

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” you said, as you went to go dig the sweatshirt out of your closet. You kept your eyes trained on the ground as you handed him a blanket and the sweatshirt, and it was enough to hear his clothes rustle as he presumably wriggled out of them, considering his jeans looked tighter than your leggings.

“I’m decent,” he chuckled once he was settled on the couch again, the blanket tucked over his lap and the sweatshirt on. He looked almost boyish now, a crooked smile on his face and his hair, which had gone fluffy as it dried, a total bedhead mess. You hung his wet clothes up on the shower rod, since the dryer wouldn’t work without power, and then sat primly on the couch next to him. He was presumably still in whatever he wore beneath his jeans, but the thought still made you blush and you were grateful for the semi-darkness now.

“So now what?” you asked quietly, feeling awkward and like you were twelve again and trying to discuss your first crush with your “bff.” Only your bff was the man you had fallen in love with.

“Oh I know how this next bit goes. You see, usually in these cheesy romcoms there’s some sort of cutesy music in the background and then the couple with all of their newly discovered attraction kisses,” Taron smirked at you, and your breath sort of caught in your throat.

“Taron, that isn’t even remotely practical!” you said, trying to laugh it off. “It’s storming like crazy outside, you’re half-naked-”

“Only half,” he interjected in a teasing manner.

“- on my couch and we don’t even know exactly how we feel about each other!” you protested, barreling through his comment.

“You so sure about that?” he asked, pulling you to him suddenly. You squeaked in surprise but didn’t pull away as his eyes searched yours for a long moment. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he said, cupping your face in his hands before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, kissing you in a way that very much could have been described as “romantic.” It opened a whole new world of feelings to you, feelings you didn’t have to pretend away anymore. You were completely head over heels for this man, and as he ran his fingers through your hair, and gazed at you in that loving way he had, you felt so totally undone but somehow put back together in all the right ways too.

You dared to kiss him back, and it was just as good the second time around, like a nice bowl of chili that warmed you all over, from the inside out. You pulled away for a moment, almost feeling shy, and settled your head against his chest instead. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, and you could hear his heart hammering away. Just knowing you were the reason for that made you smile to yourself.

Neither of you said much as you cuddled in a way you had never done. Sure, you’d laid in each others’ arms before, half-drunk or sick or sad, but this was a new level, a mutual and deep caring for each other that went further than your friendship ever had. Or maybe it really had been leading up to this all along; you both had just never seen it until now. One thing you were certain, though, was that you could never go back now. One little taste and you wanted so much more, in its time and place, of course. You had adored him from afar for so long, and now you had the chance to show him just how much.

Just then your lights clicked back on, and both of you blinked in the sudden onslaught of light at each other.

“So what happens in the dark… stays in the dark, right?” you joked lightly, sitting up again and noticing that the blanket on his lap had shifted rather low. Your face went completely red then, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, my dear, there’s no keeping us in the dark any longer,” he said, kissing you again but with gusto this time. You melted into him again, letting the rush of feelings wash through you, but neither of you let it go too far. There would be time enough for that in the future, a future that stretched out long ahead of you.

“I thought I would forever regret that voicemail but now it’s the single best thing I’ve ever done in my life,” you smiled at him as he sweetly brushed his thumb over your lips.

“I’ve listened to it every day since, just to make sure it was real and I hadn’t imagined it,” he said cutely. “I mean yes, I was confused and maybe even a little angry at first but mostly at myself for not seeing it sooner, for not admitting it sooner. For wasting so much time,” he said, his eyes so soft and light despite the harsh glare of your lamps.

“Time spent with you, even as just your friend, was never a waste to me,” you said quickly, squeezing his hand. “I’m just lucky, and grateful, for this now.”

“As am I,” he said, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a sweet kiss there.

“And Taron, I’ll be sure to leave you more voicemails in the future,” you said cheekily, your heart feeling so full of promise.

“I shall count on it,” he grinned back, and you would forever be able to lose yourself in that gaze. “But the best voicemail of all, was the one that brought us together.”

You nodded in agreement and sighed softly. “The one we’ll never forget.”


End file.
